


in all that's left of you and me

by igniteyourbones



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode: s02e02 A Door Into the Dark, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igniteyourbones/pseuds/igniteyourbones
Summary: how the saphael reunion really went down.--“You look awful.”“Thank you, Raphael, really. This is truly the touching reunion I had imagined for us,” Simon says, ignoring the fact that he’d imagined several possibilities but all of them had ended in Raphael ripping him to pieces.





	

**Author's Note:**

> during our post-shadowhunters discussion, a friend and i were discussing how we would have preferred the saphael reunion to have gone down and this is the result of that talk. completely unbeta'd so apologies for that. enjoy!

The boat shed smelt like Simon’s old high school gymnasium, only far more dank and reeking of mould and somehow, incredibly more depressing. If it weren’t for Simon’s new vampiric immunity, it would be the exact conditions that would set him off on one of his infamous asthma attacks and he kept reaching for an inhaler he no longer needed – muscle memory. Though the shed itself was big, it was cluttered with rusting boating gear and nautical equipment haphazardly forgotten in a way that left Simon’s chest feeling as though it was compressed under an impossible weight. Only it wasn’t just his new dwelling that left him suffocating. 

Something gnawed at his chest, vicious and visceral. It wasn’t hunger, though there was plenty of that too, sitting at the back of his mind and making him dizzy with need. Now that the Clave had dried up on resources for those considered unnecessary liabilities (see: Simon), it had come down to Luke to help Simon get what he needed to keep going. Luke used his police connections to the best of his abilities but to avoid questions and any sort of peaked curiosity, Simon’s meals were few and far between. It was enough to take the edge off but not enough to ever really leave him satisfied. He hated the way he could hardly focus when Clary stopped by, bringing the smell and the heat of something deliciously forbidden. 

He wished she’d stop doing that. 

The thought came so suddenly and so maliciously that Simon hadn’t quite been prepared for it. Especially considering it had nothing to do with the way she made his hunger almost tangible inside him. Despite the increased effort on the Shadowhunters’ behalf to find Jace and Valentine, Clary still found the time to stop in and keep him updated. It was mainly her, tears dusting her eyelashes, admitting how much she missed Jace and how angry she was at her mother for something or another. Simon cared, he did really, but he was beginning to wonder why on earth it had taken him this long to see how foolish he had been. 

Blinded by some notion of what he thought was love, perhaps, had meant that he’d constantly thrown himself in harm’s way for Clary and he knew, to some degree, Clary would do it back. But he didn’t need Clary to jump in front of a rogue Shadowhunter intent on killing him or keep him from sunlight – he would have been knocked over sideways with affection had she only just asked how he was. But it was Jace that had won that right now, to be at the forefront of her mind and thoughts, and Simon couldn’t remember why he ever thought it could be him. 

The ache that left his insides caving throbbed now as he shifted in the damp kayak he was residing in, faintly missing the luxury of sleep that was no longer his to have. His mind strayed to the Hotel Dumort the way it did whenever it reached the time of night where Simon’s brain could no longer find anything else to distract him with. The warmth of the walls, the endless blood on tap, the hum of voices and laughter, and the undeniable feel of community. Simon’s eyes fell shut at the thought, trying to block it out and failing. It might not have felt like home to him just yet but it certainly could have been. 

When he thought about Clary, about Alec and Jace and even Izzy, it hit him like something solid that he was not one of them. He never was, he never would be, and trying was merely a fool’s game. But there was somewhere that he could have belonged, had he not been so caught up in chasing Clary. She had what he wanted most – a family, people of her own kind, a place she belonged. 

“Come on, Simon,” he murmured to himself, if only to use the voice in his throat that was drying up from lack of use. “This is pathetic, even for you.”  
He rolled to his side, hoping for some reprieve. There was still hours before the sun was due to rise, he could go anywhere in New York to escape his thoughts and yet he stayed still. He hadn’t left the boat shed in days. Where would he even go? 

Simon remembered being fourteen and terrified when he realised he didn’t only like girls. He had panicked for weeks on end about what would happen if his family were to find out, if his friends learnt his true character, what that would mean for him. The idea of ending it had flittered in and out of his mind then, especially in the weeks after his father had passed, making everything inside him hurt. How could he be okay with who he was if he was so different, so unlike the people he cared about?

Simon gave a dry laugh. So it seemed he couldn’t escape the same inner turmoil that had followed him for a good portion of his life. Only it came in a different form now. He was something he hated, something unlovable. A monster. 

A shift in the air roused Simon from his thoughts as he propped himself up in the kayak, peering around the dark boat shed curiously. It was coming off the wolves across the way in waves – he could envision skin bristling, canines bared, an uneasiness that came with the detection of an intruder. 

Simon felt his body steady itself for an attack. Whether it was the wolves themselves reacting to him, readying themselves to go against Luke’s orders to have him taken care of or an enemy of the wolves that would no doubt mean danger for him, he had to be ready.

Leaping from the kayak and landing easily on his feet, Simon almost smiled to himself. If only Raphael could see how much he’d improved now that he had all the time in the world to practice his vampire skills. No clumsy baby vampire here, not at all. 

“So this is what you betrayed us for, huh? It’s, well, charming to say the least,” Raphael ground out behind a stretched smirk too thin to be remotely genuine. 

He appeared in front of Simon so suddenly that Simon couldn’t keep from flinching back, his foot getting tangled on a stray piece of rope that sent him toppling to the ground and staring up at Raphael. Raphael huffed, rolled his eyes, and then stepped forward with an outstretched hand.

Simon could only take it wordlessly, too stunned by Raphael’s sudden appearance to think of something witty to say. The ache in his chest burned a little at the sight of his old teacher, his old leader. A wanting in him that he’d tried so hard to push away. 

Once on his feet again, Simon blinked at Raphael once, twice, a third time. “You’re here,” he blurted out a moment later, too loud considering how close they were standing. Raphael’s hand was still wrapped around his. 

Raphael pulled his hand back, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Whether at the sight of Simon or the musky stench of werewolves that infiltrated the boat house, Simon couldn’t be sure. Possibly a bit of both, really.

“You look awful.”

“Thank you, Raphael, really. This is truly the touching reunion I had imagined for us,” Simon says, ignoring the fact that he’d imagined several possibilities but all of them had ended in Raphael ripping him to pieces. 

Raphael’s expression stayed neutral and didn’t stray from Simon’s. “Are you eating, Simon?”

Simon couldn’t keep his gaze. It was too much, too sudden. He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, kicking at a loose nail and clearing his throat unnecessarily. “Yeah, I – I’m doing okay. I’m eating.”

“Not enough,” Raphael ground out, anger slipping out from beneath his nonchalant façade. “What, the Clave don’t reward their soldiers on their obedience? Typical.” He reached into the pocket of his expensive looking jacket and thrust two bags of blood at Simon. “Here. Eat.”

Despite the hunger that had sunk into the marrow of Simon’s being, feral now that in his hands he had two bags of his favourite blood type, Simon found himself shaking his head and trying to push them back into Raphael’s hands. 

“No, I can’t.”

A delicate crease appeared between Raphael’s eyebrows. “Why not? Don’t be an idiot, Simon, look at you. You’re famished. You need to eat.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Simon stressed as he tried once more to hand back the blood and when Raphael refused to take it, his eyes hard, Simon let the bags drop to the floor. He kept his eyes on the sequins detailing the shoulder of Raphael’s jacket as he spoke the words that had swum circles in his mind for weeks now. “I betrayed you, Raphael. Betrayed the clan. Put your positon as leader at risk even after everything you’ve done for me. Me starving is probably the least I could do. Give you some satisfaction at least.”

“And what good would come from you being dead?” Raphael’s eyes were hard and unfaltering, a challenge. 

Simon shook his head, screwing up his eyes in frustration. “I know what I did was wrong, Raphael. It’s only now that I understand what I sacrificed when I thought I was doing the right thing. I lost any chance of a family, of a home, of belonging somewhere when I let Camille out. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were here to kill me yourself, honestly. It makes sense, considering.” Simon took in a shuddering breath he didn’t need. “In fact, it would be some sort of mercy in a way. I have nothing. I am nothing.” He looked up then, met Raphael’s eye, and steadied his gaze to ask. “Please.”

A low growl emitted from Raphael’s throat and suddenly Simon was being flung against a wooden pillar holding up the boat shed, all of Raphael’s weight bearing down on him to keep him pinned exactly where he was. If Simon had a working heart, it would be frantic now. From Raphael’s closeness, from the possibility he was getting exactly as he asked, and the fear that it wasn’t actually what he wanted. 

Raphael’s hand was around the base of his throat, not constricting, only settled there in warning. The spread of his fingers brushed against Simon’s collarbone in a manner that was unfairly distracting. It was too much. 

“You’re not listening to me,” Raphael snarled. “I don’t want you dead. I never have, even after what you did.”

Simon’s eyes widened. 

“You’ve fucked a lot of things up, fledging. But there’s a way for you to make things right. There’s a way for you to come home.” 

_To come back to me_ , Simon heard, and he’d never wanted anything more. 

“Why?” The word came out broken, hope trickling from it.

A flicker of emotion came across Raphael’s face, too quick for him to hide, something vulnerable and soft. He cleared his throat and steadied his gaze once more. 

“Because you’re one of mine,” Raphael explained. “You made a mistake and you’re going to fix it. You belong with the Clan, whether you believe it or not.” There was a pause and Simon felt the pad of Raphael’s thumb sweep the hollow of his throat so softly, it was almost as though he imagined. Raphael’s voice fell to a near whisper. “You’ve never been nothing, Simon Lewis. Not to me.”

Perhaps Simon was already dead. For real this time. This was too much, too good to be his reality.

Moments passed and they remained exactly as they were. Simon didn’t want to risk moving in case he lost this, the thing he had been craving the most. Finally, Raphael seemed to come back to himself and he took a step back, straightening up his jacket and looking vaguely uncomfortable with how much of himself he let Simon see. Rather than meet Simon’s eye, he swooped down to pick the blood bags off the floor and shoved them at Simon once more. 

“You’re going to want to drink up, fledgling. You’ll need your strength.”

Simon let himself take them and followed Raphael as he made his way to the door. He had a feeling he would follow Raphael just about anywhere. It was something akin to how he’d felt about Clary, only this was completely different. This felt right, it felt good. It felt like he was finding his way home again. To somewhere he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> and off they go to hunt camille and slowly resolve old hurts and eventually fall in love, the end!
> 
> would just like to point out that i do not hate clary by any stretch of the imagination. i just felt ridiculously sad after the first 2 episodes with seeing simon so alone and without a proper support system and those feelings were redirected into this fic. no offence intended!


End file.
